Good Night, Sweet War
by RASowell
Summary: A surprising message comes from London...


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. The story is solely of my own imagination.  
  
1 GOOD NIGHT, SWEET WAR  
  
  
  
Colonel Robert Hogan awakened quickly, springing upward on the bunk that served as a bed. His breath came in quick gasps, seeming to stick in his chest. It was the dream again, the one that wouldn't go away. Suddenly the door to his private quarters swung open and several immodestly dressed men entered.  
  
"Colonel, are you all right?" Sergeant Andrew Carter asked.  
  
"You cried out, sir. Is something wrong?" Corporal Louis LeBeau questioned.  
  
Hogan hung his head a moment, and raising his hand to rub across his eyes, he took a deep breath before answering, "No, everything's fine. Go back to bed."  
  
The men looked at their commanding officer a moment longer, then exchanged concerned glances between themselves. Exiting the room, they spoke quietly.  
  
"The colonel's been 'aving a great deal of nightmares lately." Corporal Peter Newkirk observed.  
  
Carter spoke up, "Yeah, it seems like almost every night here lately."  
  
Sergeant James Kinchloe hesitated, then said, "I wonder what it could be that is so awful. He said himself the war is almost over. The Germans can't hold out much longer. We'll be seeing the American army come marching through those front gates any day now. I just don't understand what could be bothering him so much."  
  
Newkirk said, "It's all I can think about. I just can't wait to get back to jolly ol' England, to see me family, to 'ear English spoken all day long, to eat good ol' English fish n' chips, to 'ave a proper spot of tea..." A dreamy look came across his face as his thoughts drifted.  
  
Looking down at his hands, LeBeau spoke softly, "Maybe that's what it is."  
  
Kinch looked puzzled. "That's what 'what is', Louis?"  
  
"Maybe the colonel has nothing to go back to. He never speaks of his family, nor of going home. Always he thinks of the next mission, and of us, but never himself." The little Frenchman had everyone's attention.  
  
"You could be right. Hey, I'll radio London and see what they know of his family. Maybe they can give him some encouraging news to make him want to go back home to Cleveland." Kinch volunteered quickly.  
  
"I'm not sure the colonel would like that." Newkirk replied. "He'll probably be pretty angry if we go poking into 'is personal business like that." A sudden thought came to him, "Besides, I thought the Colonel said he was from Cincinnati?"  
  
Carter answered, "No, he told me he was from Bridgeport, Connecticut. I remember because we talked about the Indian Wars once."  
  
Kinch silenced his friends with a single look. "It doesn't matter where he's from, what's important is that we find out about his home for him, wherever it is. I'm willing to take that chance, guys, if it helps the colonel. He'd do anything for us, and now it's our turn." Turning, he walked across the room to the bunk along the far wall, tapped the bedframe twice, and waited while the bunk swung up to reveal a tunnel entrance.  
  
++++++++++  
  
Kinch sat at the radio, a stunned look on his face. He had been there for what seemed like days, although it had in reality been only minutes. The message from London HQ was in his hand, and he re-read it again, just to make sure there was no mistake.  
  
Newkirk's voice came through the tunnel entrance. "Roll call, mate. Better get on up 'ere."  
  
Folding the message and placing it in his jacket pocket, Kinch secured his radio equipment and then climbed the tunnel ladder. At the top rung, he was greeted by the expectant faces of his colleagues.  
  
"Did you find out anything?" Carter asked, hopefully.  
  
LeBeau also inquired, "Can London help the Colonel?"  
  
When Kinch didn't answer, Newkirk asked somberly, "What is it? Is it the colonel's family? Are they—'as something happened?"  
  
Kinch looked around at the faces of his friends, then down, and finally spoke, "The colonel had a wife and three kids back home—in Santa Monica, California."  
  
"Santa Monica? Are you sure they have the right man?" Carter asked.  
  
Kinch answered, "Yeah, it's the right man, all right. I can't explain why he never told us the truth about where he was from."  
  
Picking up on Kinch's use of the past tense, LeBeau said, "What do you mean 'had' a wife and three kids?"  
  
They all sat waiting for the answer. Hesitantly Kinchloe repeated to them the message's contents. "He and his wife divorced just before he left to go to England. And I don't think the colonel knows it yet, but she remarried a month ago." He looked at each of them in turn. "Guys," he spoke seriously. "This could be really bad."  
  
++++++++++++++++  
  
For the next several nights, the men of Barracks 2 were awakened multiple times each night by their commanding officer's night terrors, as Sergeant Wilson, the camp medic, called them. Each time, the colonel assured the men he was fine, but the circles under his eyes grew more prominent and his temper became shorter as his lack of sleep overwhelmed him. Many nights, in a desperate voice, he called out a single name. "Mildred."  
  
++++++++++++++++  
  
"Good morning, colonel, sir. How are you today? Can I get you some coffee?" Carter was eager to please, but his suddenly overly-helpful attitude was too obvious.  
  
"Colonel, I made your favorite sweet rolls this morning. Would you like one to go with your coffee?" LeBeau offered, as Newkirk pulled out Hogan's chair for him.  
  
Colonel Hogan looked around the room, a puzzled expression on his face. "Sure, Carter. Coffee would be great. And sweet rolls, too. I thought we were low on supplies." He laughed faintly. "What's the special occasion, fellas?"  
  
The four in his inner circle rushed to answer, all speaking at once. "Not a thing." And "Nothing, sir."  
  
Hogan began to take a bite of the roll and noticed that the men were hovering around him. He replaced the roll on the plate and sat back in his chair. "Ok," he said. "You want to tell me what's going on?"  
  
The men looked down sheepishly, but did not answer. Newkirk, always the quickest thinker of the bunch, spoke first, "Sir, we just thought that you deserved a little special treatment, since you 'aven't been sleepin' well and all. With the nightmares, sir."  
  
Kinch added, "We just wanted to show our appreciation, sir."  
  
LeBeau spoke quickly, "And to let you know how we feel about you, since the war is nearly over and we will all be leaving here soon."  
  
"And your wife got married and all." Carter added from behind. The other prisoners' mouths dropped open at their friend's blunder. Newkirk turned away with a disgusted look on his face, as LeBeau and Kinch turned angry eyes on Carter.  
  
"What did you say?" Hogan asked, a dangerous tone to his voice.  
  
"Nothing, sir. I didn't say nothing." Carter realized his mistake too late. He began backing up, away from the mess table toward the door.  
  
"Carter? Answer me: What did you say?" Hogan repeated.  
  
Carter's eyes darted quickly between his friends, looking for assistance but not finding any forthcoming. Speaking haltingly, he answered, "I—I just said—I, um, I—Is that an order, sir?" His voice rose to a squeak.  
  
"Yes, it's an order. Sergeant, what was your comment?" Hogan waited, his eyes taking on a gleam his men had rarely seen before.  
  
Kinch spoke quickly, "Colonel, it's my fault."  
  
Hogan turned to his radioman and asked, "What's your fault? Would someone tell me what is going on here?"  
  
Deciding to take the responsibility upon himself for their investigation of Colonel Hogan's private life, Kinch spoke. "Sir, we were worried about your nightmares. I suggested that maybe we should check with London to see if something in your personal life was bothering you, to see if something had happened. This is what we found out." He reached into his field jacket pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with London's message written on it. Hogan slowly reached up and took the paper, staring at it a moment before unfolding the message.  
  
As he read the communique, his eyes widened. An astonished "Oh, my God!" escaped his mouth, as his knees suddenly buckled and he grabbed for his chair. Newkirk and Kinchloe rushed to assist their CO as he fell into the seat.  
  
Suddenly, the barracks door opened and Kommandant Klink strode purposefully inside. He carried his riding crop tucked under one arm and shivered a bit from the chilly April morning. The warmth of the potbellied iron stove centered in the barracks caused his monocle to fog over. He frowned, and removed it, wiping the glass on his white scarf. "Hogan," He began. "I need to speak to you privately." As Klink realized that Hogan wasn't standing, or even acknowledging his presence, the German officer asked the Allied prisoners, "What's wrong with Colonel Hogan? Is he all right?"  
  
The men remained silent, exchanging surreptitious glances. Finally, Hogan looked up. "Kommandant, we can speak privately in there," gesturing toward the small room that served as his quarters. The American colonel stood then, and with a spring in his step that hadn't been there before, followed Klink into the room. He paused in the act of shutting the door, then looking at his men, raised his eyebrows and grinned widely, then tipped his fingers off his hat in a semblance of a salute.  
  
Astonished, the prisoners stood dumbfounded and stared at the closed door. Corporal Newkirk scratched his forehead and spoke for all of them, "Blimey, looks like the guv'nor's flipped his lid, 'e has!"  
  
"I've got to send another message to London," Kinch announced.  
  
The other prisoners turned to look at him, their surprised expressions mirroring their words, "Why?" "What for?"  
  
Kinch took a deep breath and forged ahead. "We've got to get permission for Colonel Hogan to leave here. I've never seen anything like the way he acted today. Guys," He leaned over to make his point, "I think Newkirk's right, I think the Colonel really is cracking up."  
  
LeBeau spoke, his concern evident, "Are you going to ask Allied High Command to rescind the 'no escape' order? Mon Dieu, that order has been in place from the beginning!"  
  
Newkirk whistled softly, then placed his head in his hands. "Mates, whatever it takes to 'elp the Colonel, we've got to do it. I say go ahead, request permission for Colonel Hogan to escape."  
  
+++++++++++++++  
  
Inside the small room, Colonel Klink addressed his fellow officer. "Colonel Hogan, as you know, the war is almost at an end. I am afraid that in the next few days, things will be turned on end for my men and myself. I have received no orders from General Burkhalter or his staff in weeks, nor have I received instructions regarding our situation. I have ordered my guards to relinquish control of the LuftStalag when they see the American troops, and not to put up a fight. I wish no one to get injured in a battle to which there is no point."  
  
"Colonel, tell you what: that sounds great," Hogan took the Kommandant's arm and led him to the door. "And you can rest assured that we'll be watching for the Stars and Stripes and let you know if we see them first." Hogan's attempt to hurry the German officer out of the barracks was met with some resistance.  
  
"Hogan, what is going on here? Your men were acting strangely, and now you don't even seem to care that the American army is advancing on this post." Klink's suspicions were rising.  
  
"Sir, I can honestly say that today has been one of the best days of my life. I'll never forget it. But right now, I've got some unfinished business to attend to."  
  
"Unfinished business?" Klink asked.  
  
"Yes, Kommandant. I have something to discuss with my men." Hogan hustled Colonel Klink out the door, closing the outer door and turning to his men. "Where's Kinch?" He asked, looking around.  
  
Hurried glances were exchanged between the men as they furtively tried to think of a plausible excuse for the radioman's absence. Newkirk answered quickly, "He's down below, sir. He's just checking things."  
  
Hogan seemed to accept that answer, and said, "Well, I want to speak to you all at once. We'll wait for him to come back up."  
  
LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter looked uncomfortable, but took seats around the mess table, while Hogan stood at the stove. After what seemed like an eternity, the bunk that concealed the tunnel entrance snapped open, and Kinchloe hurried through the opening. He was panting from climbing the ladder, and he was obviously upset as he looked around the room. The other prisoners jumped up. Running to his side, LeBeau asked, "Kinch? What is wrong?"  
  
Colonel Hogan's eyes narrowed as his looked at his radioman. He sat down the cup of coffee he had been sipping. As Kinch approached his commanding officer, Hogan knew in his gut that this was his moment to pay the piper.  
  
"Colonel, I just received a communique from London, sir." Kinchloe addressed Hogan.  
  
"Yeah? And?" Colonel Hogan asked, although he knew what was coming.  
  
"Sir, we thought you were having a breakdown. We thought it would be best if London waived the "No Escape" orders that we have been under for the past 3 years, and allowed you to go home now—to Cleveland."  
  
Hogan paused, then said, "Is this because I'm not actually from Cleveland?" His voice held a note of hope. Speaking quickly, he attempted to explain. "You see, when that airman arrived a couple of years ago from Santa Monica, I had to make up somewhere else to say I was from, just in case…just in case he knew, um, any of my friends. Back there. In--in California." His excuse sounded weak, at best.  
  
Kinch shook his head and spoke firmly,"No, Colonel. We don't care where you're from. But I think you know what this is about, sir."  
  
Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter were confused. What was Kinch doing? His tone was accusatory, and Colonel Hogan looked suddenly like a broken man.  
  
Colonel Hogan spoke quietly, his voice void of emotion. "They told you, didn't they?" It was more of a statement than an inquiry.  
  
Kinch leveled his eyes at Hogan, and answered just as quietly, "Yes, sir, they did."  
  
"I couldn't do it, Kinch. You've got to understand. I couldn't go back there, not to that." Hogan's voice finally showed some emotion as it wavered and cracked.  
  
"But sir, what about the rest of us? How could you do that to over a thousand men?" Kinch was seething with anger, his voice barely controlled.  
  
Newkirk looked back and forth between the two men, and interjected, "Kinch! Colonel! What the bloody 'ell is going on?"  
  
Carter cried, "Kinch, you can't talk to Colonel Hogan like that!"  
  
Both men ignored the exclamations, and finally Hogan spoke. "She expected me to escape. I had always done everything she wanted, ever since the day we met. I waited on her, I fetched for her, I gave up flying for her, for crying out loud, I even became a shoe salesman for her! And then, when I decided I couldn't take it anymore, I joined back up and headed to England. I had to get away from her! You just don't understand what it was like, living with her and those kids of hers! I filed for divorce, but she swore that I would never be free of her. Ever." He hung his head in his hands, his voice shaking with feeling. "Mildred looked good when we met. She was older than I was, more experienced. I was just out of the Academy, 22 years old, and she was 29. We went out a few times, and then suddenly she said she was pregnant. Of course I married her. She said she lost the baby, by the way. I doubt now that there ever was a baby. I didn't know she was divorced and already had three kids until we went back to her place after the ceremony. Oh, and what kids! They hated me, and I could never do anything right. And she—she always took their side against me. I stuck it out, though, I stayed around for nearly ten years. And then, one day I woke up and realized that my life was the most awful thing I had ever known. I couldn't do it anymore, so I went back to the recruiting station and signed up again to fly bombers. Being a pilot was the only thing I could ever do well. And she hated that! Oh, brother, she was so suspicious of me! She made my life a living hell, she wasn't happy and she didn't want anyone else around her to be happy, either. She was mean as a snake, and her kids were just like her! When I got shot down and sent to a POW camp, I thought I had been given a gift from God. I know it's every officer's first duty to escape, but she was waiting for me when I got out. I just couldn't. And if all the other men left, how could I explain why I never left? You see that, don't you?" Hogan's last words were an appeal for understanding from the men he had worked so closely with for 3 years, the men who were now looking at him as if he were a stranger.  
  
LeBeau's face was twisted as he asked, "Please, someone tell us what is going on!"  
  
Kinchloe unclenched his fist, revealing a wadded up piece of paper. He handed it to the other three men as Hogan sat at the table with his head hung low.  
  
Newkirk's eyes widened as he read the message. "You mean—we could've left at any time? You mean-"  
  
"Yeah, fellas," Kinchloe said, "There never was a "No Escape" order from London."  
  
**THE END** 


End file.
